


I call out to you

by RiotFalling, WhiteIronWolf (adoctoraday)



Series: Bound To You [8]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes and his PTSD, Dom!Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Hydra (Marvel), Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of casual drug use, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Questionably Healthy Coping Mechanisms, Sub!Tony Stark, Support Groups, Therapy, Tony Stark Has Trust Issues, barbecue with the boys, canon adjacent, discussions of trauma, semi-awkward conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiotFalling/pseuds/RiotFalling, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adoctoraday/pseuds/WhiteIronWolf
Summary: Making friends is not something Bucky thought he’d be doing after all these years, but here he is, taking a risk. On himself, on Tony, on everything, it seems.Tony is... unused to being happy. That’s not to say he IS happy, but the feeling residing in his chest these days feels a lot more like happiness than anxiety. It’s fine. Everything is fine. Right?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: Bound To You [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806055
Comments: 107
Kudos: 365





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is written by WhiteIronWolf
> 
> [You can find me @TheRollingStonys on tumblr! Just ask for Mod Stella!](https://therollingstonys.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Join us in our tumblr group chat and get sneak peeks of new chapters, discuss meta and headcanons, and participate in easter egg hunts for spoilers!](https://www.tumblr.com/chat/0_JOa_w6Jki6xyaWadq4Ww/bound-to-you)

Bucky stands outside the old brick building, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, hood up against the chilly, wet wind. His whole body aches and he’s exhausted after working the whole weekend with a sore shoulder and flashbacks plaguing him every night since he’d left the hotel (and Tony).

Another strong gust of drizzly wind buffets him, pushing him forward like even the wind knows he needs to go inside. Hunching his shoulders against it, he forces his feet to move and walks down the stairs and into the basement of the building. The rush of warm air that envelops him leaves him shivering as he follows the signs down the hall till he comes to a small room on the left.

A group of a dozen or so people mill around a set of tables laden with coffee carafes, baked goods and pamphlets. All the ubiquitous offerings of a support group, laid out for the taking. He waits till there’s a bit of a gap at the table and then steps forward to pour out some coffee, adding in a few packets of sweetener before he steps aside and makes room for a woman with a scar on her cheek and a stiff set to her shoulders.

“Hi folks, just want to remind you that if you’re new here, you’ll need to sign our non disclosure form and turn it into me before we get started!”

Bucky follows the voice and finds the speaker—a handsome black woman with grey locks hanging down her back and a smile on her face. He swallows down some coffee and then goes over, his gaze meeting hers as he makes his approach.

“Hi! Are you new?” she asks, extending the hand that isn’t holding onto her cane. “I’m Rochelle.”

Bucky takes her hand and makes sure his grip is gentle as he shakes it, “Bucky. We’ve texted,” he tells her softly. Her face warms even more as her smile grows, eyes dark and gentle.

“It’s so good to meet you,” she says genuinely, “I’m glad you decided to come.”

Bucky nods and smiles weakly, “It’s been a bad couple of days...weeks I guess,” he admits, voice hoarse with a sudden rush of emotion. “I...I think I need some help.”

Rochelle gently lays her hand on his arm, her touch light enough at first that he could very easily shake it off, but when he doesn’t she smiles and squeezes his arm softly. “Honey, you’re in the right place. We all need someone to lean on sometimes, and here, you’ll find you’re in good company.”

Bucky’s eyes water and he swallows hard, looking away as he nods. He can’t speak for a long minute, but Rochelle doesn’t seem to mind, she just stands there next to him, quiet and reassuring. Coughing softly, he sniffles and looks back up at her, lips trembling in a weak smile. “Guess I need one of those forms then,” he says quietly.

Rochelle smiles warmly and pulls a form out of the bag slung over her shoulder, “Pens are in that cup over there. We’re gonna get started here shortly, so when you’re done, find a seat and I’ll grab that form from you before we get going.”

Bucky nods and murmurs a quiet _thank you ma’am_ before going to retrieve a pen from the table. He reads the form over twice before nodding and signing it, his fluid cursive scrawl just the same now as it was when he was a kid.

He finds a seat in the circle of chairs and smiles softly at Rochelle when she touches his shoulder and silently takes the form. Her cane taps softly on the linoleum flooring and by the time she’s taken her seat, the other chairs are filled with a variety of faces.

They all wait patiently as Rochelle settles herself; bag under her chair, cane leaning against her hip, and thermos of coffee in her lap. “Well! It’s good to see you all again,” she says with a grin, looking around the group at them all. “We have some new folks here today, but as always, there’s no pressure to speak unless you’d like to.”

A knot in Bucky’s chest loosens and he breathes out a soft sigh of relief, shoulders lowering from where they’d been around his ears. It’s not that he doesn’t plan on speaking, he just hates the idea of being _forced_ into sharing his shit.

“Now, a big thank you to Jose and Nina for bringing us such delicious cookies, _and_ for the fresh fruit, my hips _especially_ are grateful,” she says with a grin that sparks a small wave of laughter through the group. She pours out a cup of coffee and sips it for a moment before smiling again, softer this time, “I’ll start us off,” she murmurs.

“My name is Rochelle and I am a dominant. I was 24 when I was in a scene with my then sub and partner when they ignored our protocols and lied about being okay to continue a scene. We were in a particularly intense moment where I was whipping them, and because they didn’t safe word out, they passed out and dislocated their shoulder. Because of that breach of trust I was deeply traumatized by their actions, and my own sense of guilt and responsibility as a dom. I was unable to dominate anyone for nearly five years before the withdrawal became so bad that I had to find a therapist and then a professional sub to alleviate the symptoms. It’s been nearly twenty years since that original trauma and while I’ve been able to process it and my feelings, I still attend regular therapy to maintain a healthy relationship with my dominance and my partner.”

She takes a long breath and then smiles at the group, “And I come here every week and talk with you all so that I know and _you_ know, that we’re not alone. Trauma is trauma, regardless of if you’re a dom, sub, switch or neutral, and everyone deserves the chance to speak about their past and try to overcome it. It’s a journey, and I’m happy to be here with you all, taking it with you.”

Rochelle smiles and nods, “Now, I’ll be quiet and let someone else talk,” she jokes lightly, eyes twinkling as the group laughs softly.

Bucky _loves_ her.

A few moments pass by in silence before a man three seats down clears his throat and raises a hand awkwardly, “Hey, uh, I’m George, and well, I’m a dominant,” he says with a soft laugh, “I know I probably look like a dorky computer guy, but uh, I promise I’m still a dom!”

Rochelle leans forward and smiles at him, “Hey George,” she murmurs, “remember what we talked about last time?” she prods, “we’re all dominants, and qualifiers aren’t necessary for you to be here. Doesn’t matter what you look like, you’re a dom and that’s all that’s required here.”

George bobs his head and laughs softly, “Yup, I uh, guess I’m still working through it,” he says with a wry smile. Rochelle nods and sits back in her chair and George shifts in his for a moment before continuing, “I just...I tried to have a scene with someone recently and I got...I dunno I guess _stuck?_ ”

He sighs heavily and shakes his head, “She didn’t do or say anything, but I just _felt_ like she was judging me, this skinny, pale little nerd, thinking he could dominate her like she wanted.” His face twists into anger and then self loathing, “I hate the way I feel. I _want_ to be a dom, but all I see in the mirror is this skinny little nobody who isn’t worthy of dominating someone.”

Bucky almost laughs because god, how familiar does _that_ sound? Steve had been so _bitter_ when they were younger, so _angry_ at the cards he’d been dealt as a dom that looked the way he did. He coughs and lifts his fingers from the side of his coffee cup, smiling weakly when George looks at him. “I uh, I had a buddy who felt the same way,” he tells the man, “he was _tiny_ , barely a hundred pounds soaking wet and with the attitude of a pit bull trapped inside a chihuahua.”

George and a few other people laugh and Bucky’s smile grows a little bigger, “He hated the way he was too, and for a long time he thought there was nothing he could do about it.”

George’s brow wrinkles, “So what happened?”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head, “I took him to the boxing gym and taught him how to throw a punch. He put on a little muscle so that he _didn’t_ fall over when the wind blew, and then he met a real nice fella named Arnie a few months later after he’d won a fight at the gym. Arnie took one look at this stubborn bastard who refused to go down and well, that was it.”

George smiles softly, “Sounds like he ended up happy.”

Bucky shrugs, “War came and he went off and well, things change,” he admits, shoulder twinging from the casual movement. “But, maybe what you need is something similar,” he suggests, “you ain’t gotta be the biggest guy in the fight to win it. I could show you some stuff and maybe it would help you feel more like you fit in your skin, ya know?”

George’s eyes light up and he nods rapidly, “That would be amazing! Thank you!”

Bucky flushes at the eager acceptance of his offer and runs a hand over his hair, “Sure pal, no problem,” he murmurs, slightly embarrassed by how Rochelle is smiling at him with soft eyes.

There’s a few moments of silence and then a woman leans forward and speaks and then after that it’s a slow domino effect with more folks talking and talking till finally Rochelle calls the session to an end. There’s been some tears and raised voices, but Bucky is extremely pleased to see that the group is always caring and kind.

There’s no prayer or mantra to wind everything up, just a reminder from Rochelle to be kind to themselves in the coming days.

Bucky gets George’s number and promises to text him to set up a time for them to hit the gym together, and then Rochelle is gently pulling him aside as the others leave and he’s worried he’s going to be called out for speaking up like he did, but she just smiles warmly at him and leans a little heavier on her cane.

“You know, you’d be a great counselor,” she tells him, smirking a little at his look of disbelief. “You’re soft spoken and kind, and you see through the problem to a solution that works for the person in question. Have you ever considered becoming a therapist or a counselor?”

Bucky shakes his head and pushes back a strand of hair that’s fallen in his face, “No ma’am, I don’t, my uh, my life hasn’t been exactly _normal_ ,” he says with a low laugh.

“Honey, nobody’s life is _normal_ ,” Rochelle murmurs, “Normal is just a lie they sell you to make you feel inadequate and lonely. Now, if you’re interested I can get you some information on local college programs, but don’t worry about it if you’re not.”

Bucky is stunned into silence because he’s never _once_ considered that he could have more than the life he already has. After everything he’s been through, it’s almost _laughable_ to think he could have more.

Rochelle must see some of it on his face because she softens and reaches out to squeeze his elbow, “You think about it and text me. Doesn’t matter if it’s now or a year from now honey, okay?”

Bucky nods slowly and smiles at her weakly, “I uh, thank you,” he stammers, backing away a step. “I will.” He waves his gloved left hand in a rushed goodbye and then hurries out into the night, flinching at the pelt of rain on his face.

He throws his hood up and shoves his hands into his pockets, taking the long route home to stop at the grocery store. The lights overhead thrum and add to the headache throbbing in his temples, so he hurries to fill his basket with the things he needs and then uses the self checkout to avoid waiting in the crowded lines with other people.

By the time he gets home his shoulder is throbbing and he’s wincing with every step, the ache down his spine fiery and intense. He fumbles through putting away the groceries and then takes four of the painkillers Steve gave him and two weed cookies before he stumbles to the bathroom and stands under the hot water till it goes cold.

He’s dazed and half asleep when he finally crawls into bed, the weighted blanket heavy on his body, and so so warm. He slips into sleep gratefully and dreams of a time long ago when he’d been innocent and young, and the only pain he’d felt was after a hard day’s work.

* * *

Bucky meets George at the gym in his old neighborhood, smiling faintly as the smaller man talks too fast, clearly nervous. Bucky waves to Ivan and guides George over to meet the man—he’s one of the few people who know who Bucky _really_ is. His father, Dimitri, had run the gym and Ivan had helped out, wiping down bags, mopping floors.

“Hey Ivan,” he murmurs, “this is my friend George, I’m gonna be training him, so he might show up sometimes when I’m not here.”

Ivan casts an assessing gaze George’s way, taking in his thin and weak looking frame before smirking and replying in Russian, “Looks like your other friend, the tiny one who isn’t so tiny anymore.”

Bucky laughs softly, “Yea, he’s not as ornery though, just a little shy and in need of a friend,” he replies in Russian.

Ivan nods and pushes the log-in book forward, “Sign and do not expect me to hold your hand if you get hurt,” he tells George in heavily accented English.

George looks confused and concerned, but nods and hurries to sign anyway. “I...should I _expect_ to get hurt?” he asks warily and Bucky rolls his eyes when Ivan laughs, like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all week.

“Are you a fool?” Ivan asks, and if anything, George looks _more_ confused.

“I...no?”

“Then you listen to Yasha and not get hurt,” Ivan says, shrugging like it’s obvious.

Bucky rolls his eyes at the old pet name and pats George’s arm, “C’mon, let's leave this crazy old man to his crossword and get to work,” he encourages, smirking when Ivan laughs and waves them off.

They cut through the gym and into the locker room and Bucky can see the questions on George’s face, piling up behind his teeth before he sits down on the bench and starts changing. Bucky’s already dressed for their workout so he leans against the lockers, arms folded over his chest as he waits.

“So, _am_ I going to get hurt?” George asks warily, gazing up at him as he ties his sneakers on.

“Your knuckles will be sore, sure, your body too, but if you listen and do what I tell you, nah, you’ll be fine. You only gotta worry about getting hurt if you don’t listen or decide to start fights before you’re ready.”

George nods and then stands, looking apprehensive but eager, “Well, lead the way Teach.”

Bucky snorts softly and nods, pushing himself off the lockers before leading them out and into the corner of the gym that’s reserved for beginners. He starts by showing George how to wrap his hands, doing it twice for him first and then undoing it and making him do it till he gets it right.

After that he show George proper foot stance and then has him do a series of pre workout stretches and exercises to loosen him up and get his heart pumping. When his cheeks are rosy and he’s panting softly Bucky steps up beside him at the bag and demonstrates a jab. “You have to keep your wrist firm and straight so it doesn’t buckle and sprain, or break,” he explains, showing him a few more times before he steps back and nods at the bag, “Now you.”

George looks apprehensive but sets his feet in the right stance and then throws a weak jab that barely brushes the bag's surface.

“Again,” he murmurs, watching as George’s punch grows a little stronger each time, till he’s successfully making the bag sway each time, just a bit. He corrects his stance a few times and reminds George to keep his hands up, protecting his face when he’s between punches, but for the most part he just nods and murmurs the occasional word of encouragement.

After a few minutes he has George shift his stance and throw jabs with the left hand, explaining that he’ll have to train his non-dominant hand to be as quick and powerful as the right. George laughs, panting, “I don’t think...hah...quick or _powerful_ could be….uhf...words to describe me.”

Bucky laughs softly, “You’re better than you think,” he murmurs approvingly, “you got good hand eye coordination, you’re speedy, and you’re small.” At George’s disgruntled look he laughs and shakes his head, “Nah I don’t mean it in a bad way, I mean, the little guy gets underestimated in a fight, makes the big guy think he doesn’t need to be on guard. That’s when you can fuck em up the worst.”

George laughs out sharply in surprise at that, huffing and puffing so Bucky calls a break and waits while he sucks down water before speaking again. “My best friend, he was the one I told you about,” he explains, “he used to get into all kindsa scraps, always taking on bullies three times his size. He had a fight to pick with the world and even though he grew up and got bigger, he’s still got that attitude.”

Bucky shakes his head, “Thinks he has to protect everyone even when it’s not welcome.”

George makes a soft sound and Bucky realizes he’s been rambling. Blushing he waves a hand at the bag, “Alright square up kid,” he orders, smirking at the way George mouths _kid_ in disbelief. “Now, we're gonna do a jab cross combo, okay? Slow, like this,” he says as he demonstrates a few times.

George nods and squares up his shoulders, a fierce and determined look in his eye that reminds Bucky of another little guy, jaw firm and eyes flinty as he takes on the world. It fills him with a yearning melancholy, the taste of sorrow in his throat the whole time.

By the time he calls it quits for them, George is red in the face and exhausted, but he’s also beaming like he just won the damn World Series, so Bucky figures it must have helped. They linger outside for a minute, George looking unsure for a moment before he grins softly up at Bucky, “Thanks man, I’ve never had...well I guess if you wanted...to be my friend?” he offers tentatively, hopefully.

Something swells in Bucky’s throat and his eyes burn for a moment and he looks away, overcome with emotion.

A _friend_.

He’s made a friend.

Nodding, he looks back at George and grins, “I’d love that,” he agrees, some brilliant burning ball of emotion lodging in his chest like a sun.

George beams back, “Awesome! I’ll text you later, maybe we can do something this weekend!”

Bucky nods, “I might have plans, but I should have a better answer for ya after I clear some stuff up on Friday.”

George grins and nods, rocking on his heels like an excited little kid. “Sounds great man, see you later!” he says with a little wave before he turns and starts walking down the street.

Bucky stares after him, grinning wide and bright because _damn_ , he's got a friend.

* * *

Bucky uses the tongs Sam has provided to flip the steaks, inhaling deeply the scent of cooking meat, spices, beer and fresh air. He loves Sam’s place—it doesn’t have a huge yard, but there’s some green space, a tiny plum tree, and a little patio that’s perfect for grilling on.

Sam turns up the music on his phone and leans back in his chair, sipping his beer with a contented hum, “Man, if I knew you could grill like this I woulda had you over more,” he teases. Bucky grins at him and shuts the lid on the grill so the steaks cook evenly.

He grabs his own beer and takes the seat at the small table across from Sam, smiling easily. “I’m a man of many talents,” he murmurs, “your momma can attest to that,” he jokes, laughing when Sam chokes on his beer and wheezes out laughter between coughing fits.

Sam wipes at his eyes, still chuckling and Bucky can’t seem to make the smile on his face go away, so he stops trying. It feels _good_ to be happy, to feel like he’s just another regular guy hanging out with his friend, drinking and making stupid jokes.

It feels _normal._

Sam eyes him speculatively for a moment before shaking his head, “You seem good man, happy. How you been?” he asks, tilting his head to avoid the sun that’s been shining all day.

Bucky nods and taps his fingers against the bottle of beer, the metal making the glass ring. “I’m good, honestly, I haven’t felt this good in awhile. I went to that group you recommended and it was, it was really good,” he murmurs. “It was nice to hear other people feel like I do, that they struggle too.”

Sam nods and sips his beer, his patient silence provoking Bucky into speaking more. “The woman who runs it, she uh, she suggested I might consider becoming a counselor?” he says questioningly, gaze flickering to Sam to assess his reaction.

The other man stares at him for a moment and then nods slowly, “I can see that,” he murmurs, “you’re patient and gentle but firm; clients respect the hell outta that.” He eyes Bucky speculatively and lifts a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking into a faint smile, “Is it something _you_ want?”

Bucky taps his fingers against the glass bottle of beer again and shrugs, letting his chin duck so his hair curtains forward. “I just…” he sighs heavily and then shrugs again, “I never had any college schooling, couldn’t afford it. And I’m from the 40’s Sam, ain’t like school records go back that far and how am I supposed to register for classes and show up looking like this when they’re expecting an old man?”

He shakes his head and leans back in his chair, avoiding Sam’s gaze.

“Sounds like you’ve got plenty of excuses not to even try,” Sam says mildly. “Didn’t figure you for a quitter though.”

Bucky looks back up at him and glares—he knows exactly what Sam is trying to do.

Sam just smirks and shrugs, “If you’re trying to convince yourself not to do it, those are some pretty shitty excuses. You want to register? Ask Stark to get you a new identity, he’s got the money. You don’t ever have to be Bucky Barnes again if you don’t wanna.”

Tony’s name jolts him and he clenches his hand, the creak of the glass under his palm a warning that he heeds, releasing it slowly before running his shaking fingers through his hair. They sit in silence for a while and Bucky is deeply, profoundly grateful that Sam isn’t the type to push when he senses a barrier has been struck or a wound poked.

Bucky finishes the beer and then stands, checks on the steaks and grabs Sam’s empty before ducking into the house. He goes to the bathroom and contemplates Sam’s words as he washes his hands, walking slowly back into the kitchen to grab more beers. When he emerges again he pops the tops off both beers and then hands one to Sam.

“I’m sorry I’m a dick sometimes,” he murmurs, going to the grill to check the steaks. He assess their readiness and pulls them off onto the plate, grabbing the hot ears of corn on the cob and the dish of mac and cheese he’d watched Sam make and carefully delivers them to the table.

“ _Sometimes_?” Sam teases, eyes warm and understanding when Bucky sits across from them. “Nah, man, I get it. Sometimes good things scare us, make us question if we really deserve them. It was like that with me and Riley at first,” Sam says as he cuts into his steak. “First time he ever kissed me I freaked the fuck out and hid from him for like, two days because here was this golden boy from a military legacy family that everybody loved wanting _me?_ It didn’t make any goddamn sense.”

Tony’s face flashes in Bucky’s mind and he nods slowly; he knows that feeling.

“But man, let me tell you, allowing yourself to want things, to acknowledge that you _deserve_ them? That shit is _hard_ ,” Sam says around a bite of steak. He chews for a moment and then sips his beer and sighs, smiling sadly at Bucky, “But worse than that is never even trying.”

Bucky nods slowly and chews on his corn, quiet and thoughtful.

They sit in silence again till Bucky’s phone vibrates and Sam spies the caller ID.

“ _Babydoll?”_ he crows, laughing as Bucky scrambles to his feet and walks away, flipping him off as he answers Tony’s call.

“Hey darlin,” he greets warmly, surprised that the other man is calling him. It’s certainly not unwelcome, but it’s sorta out of the norm—Tony has been a strictly texting guy up until now.

“Hey so, it looks like Sunday would be better for me to go back up to the cabin and do any installation and updates you want, does that work for you?”

“Yup, I got off the whole weekend so I’m all yours baby,” he murmurs in a teasingly hot voice. It’s rewarding to hear Tony’s slight sharp inhalation, his exhale just a tiny bit shaky and aroused.

“I- that’s, uh, that’s good,” Tony murmurs, “Uh, did you want a ride up there? So you don’t get lost,” he tacks on, “I mean, not that you’d get lost, you’re _you_ and they probably taught you how to navigate but it’s unfamiliar territory so I thought—”

“A ride would be great darlin, thank you, that’s incredibly sweet and generous of you,” he cuts in, smiling softly at Tony’s nervous bable.

“Oh, okay good, that’s, that’s good, you’re welcome,” Tony stammers and Bucky has to close his eyes against the rush of emotion he feels for this sweet man. There’s a long moment of silence and then Tony asks hesitantly, “So uh, what are you up to today?”

Bucky smiles and opens his eyes, peering up into the clear blue sky above him. “Just having a little barbecue with Sam,” he says quietly, “steaks and beers,” he tells Tony.

“That sounds nice,” Tony says wistfully, “it’s a good day for it.”

“It is,” he agrees, “be better if you were here,” he says without really thinking.

There’s a long moment of silence and then; “Really?” Tony asks bashfully. He sighs “I...Sam probably wouldn’t want me around, he’s, well I don’t think he’s my biggest fan,” he says quietly, resignedly.

“Baby that’s not true,” Bucky hurries to assure him. He’s never heard Sam say word one that’s been negative about Tony. “He knows how happy you make me, he thinks you’re great.”

The silence is even longer this time and panic starts to well inside Bucky. _Shit shit shit_ what had he said wrong?

“You told him? About, about _me_?” Tony asks hoarsely, “he _knows?”_

Ah _fuck._

“No baby, I didn’t, I wouldn’t ever tell him without your permission. I meant that he knows about you in the sense that I have a sub and that person makes me happy. He doesn’t know it’s _you._ ”

He hears Tony’s shuddering breath and wishes more than anything he was there to hold him. “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmurs, throat thick with emotion. He hesitates, “I...I was actually going to ask if you would be comfortable with me telling him who my sub is, because he’s my best, well, one of, friend and kinda like an unofficial therapist too and well, never mind,” he babbles, “it’s not important.”

He can hear Tony breathing on the line, but other than that he’s silent and Bucky’s chest is starting to feel like it’s caving in under the pressure of his fuck up, his lungs aching with each breath he takes.

“I thought...I thought Steve was your best friend?” Tony murmurs, “ _End of the line_ and all that.”

Bucky closes his eyes and shakes his head, “The man that said that isn’t me anymore. I love Stevie, I always will, but the man he knew is gone and he doesn’t wanna admit that. Sam…” he trails off and thinks about the condition he’d been in when Sam had found him and swallows back a sudden rush of emotion.

“After Insight I was broken,” he whispers hoarsely, “I, I wandered for days, living on the streets, confused and scared and half outta my skull with the programming breaking down. Eventually I heard a couple of homeless vets talkin bout some fella that would help if you came and asked for it. I followed them to the shelter Sam volunteers at and watched him for a week, helpin folks and takin care of em.”

He shudders as he remembers the pain he’d been in, mentally and physically. He’d been like a wounded feral dog, lashing out at anyone who got too close.

“Sam, he figured out quick who I was and what was going on and started leaving me hot meals and blankets, luring me in like a feral street cat,” he says with a wet laugh. Tony makes a soft wounded sound but doesn’t say anything. “My wounds were infected and I was delirious when he found where I was hiding, think he slipped a tracker onto one of the blankets, Romanoff probably gave it to him. Anyway, he found me, took me in and saved my life.”

Bucky sighs and scrubs his hand over his face, “I’d probably be dead or back with some shit Hydra splinter group if he hadn’t found me,” he admits, “I had plenty of em tailing me and tryin to take me back in.”

“What happened to them?” Tony asks softly, voice heavy like he already knows the answer.

“Nobody looks twice at a dead homeless person,” Bucky replies tonelessly. “I took their cash and pawned their phones and tried to stay alive. If Sam hadn’t…” he trails off, lips twisting in a bitter smile. “I owe him everything Tony, and I want to be honest with him, but I’m not gonna do it if you aren’t okay with it. I’d _never_ do something to betray you or hurt you, Tony, _never_.”

The silence between them feels like an ocean till Tony makes a soft sound, “I didn’t realize...I didn’t know all of that,” he says quietly. “You really trust him, huh?”

Bucky nods even though Tony can’t see it, “I do baby, I trust him with my life.”

Tony is quiet again for a long time and then he asks in the quietest voice, “And he- he wouldn’t tell Steve?”

Bucky shakes his head, “No baby, _no_. He’s a professional, he wouldn’t betray us like that.” He thinks about it for a moment and then carefully asks, “Do you wanna talk to him yourself? Get it from the horse's mouth?”

Tony laughs softly and the warm sound of it sends some kind of relief washing through him. His shoulders droop, the tension leaking out of him that he hadn’t even noticed building.

“Yea uh, sure, lemme talk to the BirdMan,” Tony says jokingly, but Bucky can still hear the tension in his voice.

“You sure?” Bucky asks, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I’m not trying to pressure you here.”

Tony laughs softly again, “I know Bucky, believe me, I know. I’m fine. Lemme talk to Toucan Sam,” he orders, sounding amused and tired all at the same time.

Sighing softly, Bucky nods and walks back over to Sam, holding out the phone, “He wants to talk to you,” he says quietly, keeping his face impassive as Sam studies him. He must do a good job because a moment later Sam nods and leans forward to take the phone.

“Hello?”

Bucky watches the ripple of surprise pass over his face before going neutral, thoughtful. Sam glances up at him and waves at him to sit down before rising to his feet and walking inside, closing the door behind him. Bucky _could_ make an effort to eavesdrop, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to rob Tony of his privacy, so he turns to his meal and proceeds to eat it, bite by bite wondering what the two men are saying to each other.

By the time Sam returns, his plate is empty and nearly twenty minutes have passed. Sam emerges from the house laughing, shaking his head and grinning widely.

“Yea yea TinMan, keep it up and I’ll tell TasteeFreeze here to ask about the Froyo Incident of 2017,” he teases. Whatever Tony says in reply has Sam looking confused before his eyes bulge, a shocked expression spreading across his face. “W-what, I, h-how did you know about that?” he splutters, and damn, is that a _blush_ on his face?

Bucky grins and leans forward, watching as Sam laughs and shakes his head at whatever Tony is saying. “Truce man, truce,” Sam says with a laugh, “We’re good.” He nods and then grins at Bucky, “Yea alright, I’ll let you know. Now lemme give you back to the Manchurian Candidate, he’s staring at me like he’s gonna rip the phone from my hand and I like my bones unbroken, thanks.”

Sam laughs again and then offers a quick goodbye before handing the phone off to Bucky who takes it and immediately walks away to the corner of the small yard. “Hey darlin, you ok?” he asks immediately, worry gnawing at his gut despite the teasing and laughter Tony and Sam had been engaging in.

Tony laughs softly, “Yea we’re good,” he murmurs. “I can see why he’s your unofficial therapist,” he murmurs, “he’s good at getting people to talk.”

Bucky nods and laughs weakly, “He’s got a talent for it,” he agrees. “So really, how are you?” he asks softly, letting some of the worry he’s feeling creep into his voice. “I guess we can’t really go back from this, huh?”

Tony makes a soft sound, “Not really, no,” he agrees. “But when has that ever stopped me?” he says jokingly, but Bucky can hear an ocean of hurt and regret behind it and he makes a low sound of pain, “I wish I was there so I could hug you,” Bucky says softly, honestly.

Perhaps _too_ honestly, if Tony’s silence is anything to go by.

“Me too,” Tony replies quietly, taking Bucky by surprise.

Neither of them says anything for a long time, the sound of their breathing echoing over the line till finally Tony clears his throat.

“Um, while we’re doing things we can’t come back from, Pepper, I mean- can I...” Tony pauses to drag in a deep breath, like he’s steeling himself, and Bucky can hear the way it shakes before Tony launches into a nervous ramble. “I just- she’s one of _my_ best friends, and she’s been poking me to tell her basically anything about you, and she _did_ kind of recommend the matching service in the first place—“

“Darlin, _breathe,”_ Bucky interrupts, a little worried that Tony is about to work himself into a panic, “Of course you can tell her, baby, I want you to feel comfortable in this too. You can tell basically any of your friends you’re comfortable telling, it’s up to you darlin.”

The laugh that Tony lets out is rough and strangled, but he sounds a little steadier at least as he says “Oh sure you say that now, just wait until Rhodey is stalking you in full War Machine get up.”

“Perfect, the hydraulic lift at my shop is going out, we could use the replacement,” Bucky says quickly, hoping that if he can make Tony laugh he can avoid either of them spiraling out about things they’ll have plenty of time to worry about later. Hopefully.

”That is not what that _suit_ is for,” Tony protests but at least he does laugh, and Bucky grins as he makes equivocating noises and Tony laughs harder. When he settles again Tony’s breathing sounds much steadier, and pride fills Bucky’s chest even as Tony says “Well, I have to get back to it, building a better mousetrap isn’t going to just happen on its own!”

Bucky laughs, blinking away tears and nods, voice rough when he speaks. “Still on the hunt huh?”

“It’s mocking me now, I swear!” Tony exclaims, “It ate all the cheese and avoided every trap I set!” he says with a laugh.

“Tricksy little hobbit,” Bucky jokes, grinning when Tony gasps dramatically.

“ _Did you just—_ oh my god you’re my new favorite, I have to call Rhodey Bear and tell him he’s been replaced. You’re such a _nerd,”_ Tony says gleefully, “you nerdy fuckin hipster.”

Bucky laughs loud and hard, eyes screwed shut so tight red and gold burns behind his lids and for one reckless moment he’s tempted to say _god I love you,_ but the sheer shock of it stuns him into silence. He clears his throat and shakes his head, laughing softly this time, “I told you I ain’t a hipster,” he teases. “Gonna have to punish you if you keep that up.”

Tony makes a choked sound and laughs weakly, “That’s...not really incentive for me to stop,” he tells Bucky in a voice that makes goosebumps rise on his skin.

Bucky hums thoughtfully, “What time should I be ready tomorrow?” he asks instead of pushing that line of conversation. As much as he’d like to, they haven’t had a real discussion on punishment and behavior—mostly because they haven’t needed to, but the longer this goes on between them, the more serious it becomes, and eventually it’s a conversation they’ll need to have.

Not yet though.

“Is ten ok?” Tony asks, “We can go earlier if you’re a morning person, I just need like, a gallon of coffee and maybe a RedBull and I’ll be good to go.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head, “Nah ten is good. I gotta go to the garage after this and do some after hours work that’ll probably have me there late, so I’ll sleep in a bit.”

 _A bit, **hah**_ , he’ll probably only sleep till seven if he’s _lucky_.

“Alright then, I guess I’ll see you at ten.”

“Yes you will baby, I’ll be the one in the man bun,” he teases, echoing the words of their first meeting.

If Tony’s sharp inhale is any indication, he’s picked up on it. He wonders if Tony will respond like he did last time, coy and teasing and fun.

Tony is quiet for a moment, and then his voice comes over the line, soft and sweet, “I’ll be the one looking forward to seeing you,” he murmurs shyly.

Bucky softens and smiles widely, “That makes two of us baby.”

It’s quiet again for a moment and then Tony murmurs a soft goodbye that Bucky echoes and then the line goes dead. He’s still smiling when he turns back around and the smug look on Sam’s face has him laughing and holding up a hand, “Shut up man, don’t even start,” he warns.

“Nope, wasn’t gonna say anything,” Sam says, voice even more smug than his face and Bucky just rolls his eyes and reaches for his beer, swallowing down a slug as Sam leans back in his chair with an annoying _knowing_ look on his face.

They sit in silence as the breeze rustles through the trees and the birds chirp, the sun warm and the air fragrant with plum blossoms and grilled meat.

“He makes you happy, huh?” Sam asks softly, without any hint of teasing and when Bucky looks over to him the look on his face is all sincere friendship and concern.

Bucky smiles softly and nods, “Happier than I’ve ever been,” he admits.

Sam smiles back and nods, “Good, I’m glad for you man.”

A moment of silence passes and then Sam waves a hand in a _come on_ motion, “Let’s go, I’ll teach you how to make my grandmama’s peach cobbler,” he says as he rises to his feet. “Gotta keep your super soldier ass well fed,” he jokes, “can’t have you fallin over like some delicate flower.”

Bucky laughs and rises, gathering up the plates before following him inside. “Listen Chicken Licken, I got like twenty pounds of muscle on you, I’m hardly a shrinkin daisy,” he calls as he follows after the other man.

Sam makes a choked outraged noise, “ _Chicken Licken??_ Man that’s the _last_ time I invite you over for beer and steak. The _disrespect,”_ he yells, “outrageous!”

Bucky laughs so hard it feels like his ribs will bust, all the happy that’s inside him threatening to break free like water rushing over a dam.

It feels...good.

Normal.

Like home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written by RiotFalling
> 
> [You can find me @riotwritesthings on Tumblr!](https://riotwritesthings.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Join us in our tumblr group chat and get sneak peeks of new chapters, discuss meta and headcanons, and participate in easter egg hunts for spoilers!](https://www.tumblr.com/chat/0_JOa_w6Jki6xyaWadq4Ww/bound-to-you)

Tony stares blankly at the holograms pulled up in front of him, not actually seeing a damn thing.

With a sigh he leans back in his chair and throws his feet up on the desk, heedless of the boring paperwork he’s no doubt crumbling as he stares at the ceiling instead.

He’s trying _really hard_ not to let himself think too hard about his life choices. Because if he doeshe’ll no doubt realize that volunteering the cabin was probably a _terrible_ idea. Tony isn’t sure exactly _how_ it’s going to go wrong yet, but he knows that it _will._

It doesn’t help that he woke up Saturday afternoon with a deep ache in his jaw from holding it stretched out wide around Bucky’s cock for so long, throat so raw that his voice had been an awful rasping whisper. Even now, well into Tuesday morning, his voice is hoarse and his jaw still aches a little and every time it so much as twinges he ends up thinking about Bucky.

Which leads him right back around to thinking about the impulsive offer he’d made.

He hasn’t even been out to the cabin in probably a year now, has no idea why it suddenly popped into his head as an option except that he kind of _does._ He just hadn’t been able to stand the haunted look in Bucky’s eyes, the way his idle wish to get out of the city had sounded so _hopeless._

Tony couldn’t just let that stand, not while he could actually _do_ something about it.

And who knows, maybe it'll be fine. Maybe being at the cabin _won't_ make him melancholy, maybe it _won't_ just remind him of all his failed attempts to _not_ be a workaholic, to pretend he can be any sort of normal person with silly things like a work/life balance.

 _"Tony,"_ Pepper says, in the tone of someone who's already said it _several_ times, and Tony nearly topples over backwards in his chair as he startles hard.

He has to grab the desk to keep from falling, feet hitting the ground with a loud thud while his heart races. "Hey, what's up?" he asks once he manages to get his breath back, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile.

Pepper's face remains unimpressed, with maybe the faintest undercurrent of worry.

"Why do you need the cabin this weekend?" she asks and Tony winces because _damn,_ he'd forgotten that she might still get the confirmation emails from the caretakers, and so much for not having to think about his life choices. He opens his mouth, fully prepared to lie, but Pepper cuts him off with, "And I _know_ you're not taking a vacation, so don't even try."

"I can take a vacation if I want," he grumbles, but it's weak and they both know it.

Hell, he bought the cabin before the whole Afghanistan mess and he didn't even use it much _then,_ much less after he got back. 

And Pepper is intimately familiar with his inability to ‘take it easy.’ Especially after all her efforts to make the cabin a place they could both relax, after all the times she had dragged Tony out there only to end up with an awkward weekend of both of them in their own offices because Tony is incapable of _stopping_ and she hadn't been left with much else to do. The writing had really been on the wall for them ever since then, Tony just hadn't realized it until she stopped insisting they go out to the cabin all together.

And now she's standing in front of him, asking _why_ he's suddenly planning on using it again, and Tony is struggling to come up with anything that isn't _the truth._ He's pretty terrible with relationships, but Tony gets the feeling he's already handling this situation _very badly._

He probably should have asked if she wanted any of the furniture first, she did pick most of it out after all.

“Do you want your plants?” he asks, a little desperately, because _oh_ it would be so nice if this conversation could be as easy as that. Judging by the narrowing of Pepper’s eyes though, he is having no such luck and Tony resists the urge to nervously ramble, instead biting his tongue and smiling hopefully.

Pepper’s face does something complicated, like she’s circling through worry and surprise and confusion and _‘are you serious, Tony’_ too quickly for any emotion to settle for long, before going carefully blank.

“Tony,” she says slowly, then sighs and her expression softens as her arms drop from where they had been crossed over her chest. “You know you can talk to me, right?” she asks, voice soft and just a little sad and Tony has to resist the urge to wince because yep, he is _definitely_ handling this badly if she feels the need to ask, “We _are_ still friends, aren’t we?”

Tony can’t help his stricken look at that, and then pouts when Pepper immediately switches to a small, smug grin, as if she’s proven her point.

“So talk to me,” she says brightly, like it’s the obvious solution, “Tell me about your sudden urge for fresh air and _‘possessed birds,’_ as you called them.”

“Those birds _were_ possessed,” Tony argues, smiling slightly even though the memory of their bird-ruined picnic on the porch is bittersweet, now.

Pepper smiles back, and her voice is placating as she says, “Sure they were.” She grins wider at Tony’s offended huff, and then her voice softens as she asks, “You know I want you to be happy, right? And I want to know what’s going on in your life, you don’t have to tiptoe around things, just because you think it’s going to be awkward or something.”

“I mean, it’ll be a _little_ awkward,” Tony has to point out, because he hasn’t exactly stayed close friends with any of his other exes, and he may not have any idea what the protocol is, but he’s pretty sure the awkwardness is guaranteed.

“Nothing can be more awkward then when I found you after a three day inventing binge, half naked, trying to build a _‘Star Trek transporter,’”_ Pepper says with a wide smile.

“You swore never to speak of that!” Tony accuses with a dramatic gasp, hands clutched over his chest.

“No, you _told me_ to swear never to speak of it, I never agreed to those terms,” Pepper informs him and Tony snaps his jaw shut, instead just fixing her with a narrow-eyed look. She just smiles wider and adds, “I _am_ the one who suggested you try the service in the first place—“

“And you’ll never let me forget it,” Tony grumbles under his breath, but Pepper wisely continues speaking right on over him.

“And have I not dealt with you bringing your squirming and _‘sore throat’_ to meetings like a champ?” she asks, one eyebrow raised in a sharp point.

“You are the champion,” Tony says agreeably, ducking his chin a little under the guise of nodding as his cheeks heat and yeah, he probably should have known better than to expect her to buy that excuse. He can only hope that everyone else at his Monday afternoon meeting had.

“So talk,” Pepper says, seating herself neatly in the chair across from him and fixing him with a _look._

Tony manages to maintain his steely silence for all of about thirty seconds, and then he slumps back in his chair with a heavy sigh and admits, “Um, I am maybe taking my new dom out there. Because the hotel makes me seriously paranoid, and I can’t exactly bring him here, for _obvious reasons—“_

He’s aware he put maybe too much emphasis on that last point, and his hope that Pepper will just let it slide is instantly dashed when her eyes narrow.

“What obvious reasons?” she asks and yeah that’s a pretty fair question. 

It’s not like Tony hasn’t hooked up with his fair share of random doms in his years of living like a playboy, he in fact made a point of bringing home people of all designations in a semi-intentional pattern that no one would be able to draw any conclusions from. 

But there’s a pretty big difference between that and hoping no one notices famous lost soldier _Bucky Goddamn Barnes_ wandering in and out of Stark tower once a week, which Tony does not at all want to roll the dice on.

He can only imagine what Steve would say if he finds out Tony is hanging out with his BFF in _any_ capacity. His BFF who Tony knows moved out of the compound not very long after moving in, which Tony has been working really hard to avoid accidentally asking about. Even though he’s _extremely_ curious.

And that’s not even taking the whole horrible _sub_ thing into account, Tony absolutely can _not_ have people finding out about that.

Pepper is still staring at him, expectant, and Tony scrambles for any reasonable explanation that _isn’t_ the truth. At least, not the _whole_ truth.

“Plus, he really nee- wants to get out of the city sometimes, and hey, I _have_ a place out of the city, it works out perfect,” he finds himself blurting, relief rushing through him because that’s actually a pretty good reason.

“Tony,” Pepper says slowly and apparently she doesn’t agree, a look of concern slowly growing on her face that Tony really wishes he wasn’t so familiar with.

“Don’t give me that face, this is not me throwing money at things-“ _or people,_ Tony doesn’t add, because they both know it’s what he means anyways- “I _already own_ the cabin. Ha, loophole.”

Pepper is not impressed by his logic, he can tell, and when Tony lets himself think about it too hard he can’t deny that it’s pretty flimsy.

Especially when Tony has something of a history of throwing money and gifts and inventions at people in the hopes they’ll stick around. She’s seen it, she’s definitely heard even more stories from Rhodey about when Tony was young and naive, and if he starts doing it again he has no doubt she’ll make horrible sad faces at him. And then she’ll call Rhodey, and _he’ll_ come make sad faces at Tony.

And it doesn’t even _work,_ the majority of the time, is the main thing. Tony still manages to drive most people off one way or another.

So he clings to the reasoning that he _does_ already own the cabin, he’s not spending any money, he’s not building anything, it’s totally fine. Mostly because he doesn’t know what else to _do,_ Bucky doesn’t want his help with the arm, or the pain, hell Tony still can’t quite believe Bucky agreed to the cabin in the first place.

Then something else occurs to him, and Tony drags his eyes back up to Pepper with a slight wince.

“If- should I have asked you first?” He asks awkwardly, because he may own the cabin, but in a lot of ways it was more Pepper’s than it ever was his.

She did most of the decorating, she was the one dragging him out there 99% of the time, hell Tony hasn’t even been out there since they broke up. He probably should have just given the cabin to her, in fact, and Tony is seconds away from offering to do just that when she speaks again.

“Of course not,” Pepper says, voice gentle. “Tony, it’s your property, you can do whatever you want with it. We have some good memories there,” she pauses for a wistful smile and Tony can’t help mirroring it, because they _did,_ among all the strained silences, “but it’s _yours._ And it’s about time you found something to do with it.”

Pepper says it in a joking tone, lifting a pointed eyebrow at him, but the soft smile on her face means that what she’s really saying is _‘I’m glad you're moving on.'_ Because she knows better than just about anyone that _'covered in a joke'_ is the best way to say anything _real_ to the emotionally inept. Like Tony.

They both know that breaking up was the right call and they've both gone through their _'getting over it,'_ process, which in Tony's case meant lots of drinking and late nights in the workshop while Pepper had gone with the much more mature spa vacation. Tony was even in charge of helping her pick outfits for her recent dates with Cambell the nice EMT. Who Tony has only done friend-level background checks on, because Tony really isn't an obsessed ex, even if he _does_ like to imply that the man might be a highly advanced android because seriously, no one has eyes _that_ blue.

So yeah, he's definitely over the relationship, they've slid nicely back into being friends with only minor bumps and bruises, but Tony can't deny that he hasn't exactly gotten to the _'moving on'_ stage yet.

He's mostly spent the last year burying himself in work and contemplating leaning into the 'eccentric billionaire loner' vibe, so that at least he could pretend it's intentional when he winds up that way. And then the stupid dom withdrawals had thoroughly fucked that plan up, and now Pepper is smiling at him all happy and relieved like she thinks he's out there dating again and Tony doesn't have the heart to tell her that it's not really like that.

It's _not._ It's just a temporary arrangement.

The silence starts to stretch between them, not _quite_ uncomfortable, and Pepper thankfully speaks up before Tony can start nervously blurting things out again.

“You must like the guy,” she says with a teasing smirk, and then her expression goes thoughtful as she adds “And you must trust him, at least a little, if —“

 _“Aaand_ we have officially hit awkward,” Tony interrupts, mostly because that is the _top thing_ he is trying not to think about.

He knows, reasonably, that trusting a dom like this again is probably a horrible mistake. And apparently Tony is a goddamn fool, because no matter how much he tries to deny it to himself he _does_ trust Bucky. Tony trusts him when Bucky says that he’ll never have to do anything he doesn’t want to, not when he’s with Bucky, and it’s _stupid_ of Tony to believe it but he _does._

There's about a million and one ways this could go wrong, but Tony knows that if he lets himself start mentally listing them all out then he won't _stop._ For once in his life, Tony doesn't _want_ to get caught up in the what-ifs that he knows are hanging on the horizon, he wants to just enjoy it while he can.

So he remains stubbornly tightlipped, just smiles back blandly as Pepper's expectant look sets deeper and deeper.

“Come on, one thing, tell me _one thing_ about him,” she wheedles and uh oh, she has her stubborn face on.

Tony considers his answer carefully, because beneath a friendly teasing he can see the very beginning spark of _‘what are you hiding Tony’_ starting to grow. He needs to give her something, before that worry grows and she starts asking more questions and the whole thing comes crashing down. He just... needs to make it useless.

The perfect answer occurs to him just as Pepper's eyebrows start to pull together in worry, and Tony has to fight down a smirk.

“He’s kind of a hipster, ” Tony admits heavily, as if he's revealing some great, terrible secret.

Pepper stares at him blankly for a second, and then her nose wrinkles as she declares “That’s literally the worst thing you could have said.”

Tony’s laugh bursts out of him as the weird cackle that he _hates,_ but at least it makes Pepper smile. "Teach you to ask questions," he says smugly, "Now you have to know that too."

"I'll never ask anything ever again," Pepper says with a roll of her eyes and then grins when Tony laughs again because the both know she will. "So, have you looked over those new contracts legal sent over?”

“About halfway done,” Tony replies quickly, even though he’s pretty sure the contract in question is the stack of papers on the corner of the desk, crumbled and maybe smudged a little with grease because he’s still in his workshop shoes. Because he maybe fell asleep in the workshop at some early hour of the morning and didn’t bother to change before wandering up to his office.

Pepper’s eyes flick down to the papers as well, and she rolls her eyes again as she leans forward start straightening them up. “There were a couple things I wanted to go over with you anyways, we can just do that now,” she says, settling back into her seat with a long suffering sigh that’s kind of ruined when she immediately smiles and asks “Have you had lunch yet?”

“Is it lunch time already?” Tony asks, glancing down at his watch in surprise and oh look at that, it is in fact _well past_ lunch time.

"We'll order something," Pepper says, completely unsurprised.

* * *

Platypus  
  
**Wednesday** 11:54 AM   
Hey Tones! I’m going to be in town for a couple weeks next month   
I’ll alert the appropriate authorities  
Ha ha  
So do you want to break into the zoo, or go for a leisurely stroll through the natural history museum, touching literally everything on our way?  
I’m pretty sure there are still a couple other things left from our college adventure wish list, I’ll dig it up  
I think you mean YOUR adventure wishlist. I seem to remember vetoing every item on it.  
Still no sense of adventure I see  
What about a bar crawl? Just like the old days? You can carry me home covered in my and/or your own vomit  
Oh god I think my liver AND my back just died reading that  
Weak  
Past Rhodey is turning over in his tiny dorm bed  
Good, that little bastard slept weird, totally screwed up my back  
😂😂  
So are we finally fufilling our dreams of building our sexy robot army or what?!?!  
Oh GOD no  
this is not the droid you’re looking for  
Boooo  
I changed my mind I’m asking the housing department to get me a new roommate  
😂😂😂  
WHAT  
What? Too late for that?  
Little bit, yeah. You’re stuck with me now buddy  
Oh noooo 😘😘  
Can't wait to see you, honey bear  
You too Tones  


Tony is still smiling as he tucks his phone away into his pocket, even though there's definitely strongly mixed feelings swirling around in his chest.

On the one hand, _of course_ he wants to see his bestest best friend in the entire world, it really has been too long since they were even on the same side of the planet.

On the other hand, the distance has definitely made it easier to hide from his bestest best friend that he has been kind of a _mess_ the past couple months. At least he has another month to make himself _less_ of a mess before he actually sees Rhodey.

He already has Pepper fretting and worrying over him, he doesn't need Rhodey doing it too. He has more than enough to worry about these days, which is also kind of Tony's fault.

At least this arrangement with Bucky really _is_ helping, for all that it also has a shadow of future trouble hanging over his head. Tony's sleep schedule is slowly getting back to his normal sporadic 'working until he's nearly passing out' level of terrible, instead of the night after night he’d spent just staring at his ceiling, caught in the grip of dom withdrawals and so desperate to sleep that he could _cry._

At least he can face Rhodey without worrying that his best friend is going to see through him _right away._

Hell, in a week or two he might be better enough that there won't even be anything for Rhodey to notice. He'll just have to avoid any hard-to-answer questions about what's been new lately, and he'll be golden.

Because if he doesn't want to get into _who_ exactly his new dom is with Pepper then he _definitely_ doesn't want to get into it with Rhodey. After all, Rhodey is the one with all the first hand experience on just how stupid Tony gets over trying to please a dom. All the terrible judgement and even worse choices.

Tony doesn't even want to _think_ about how pitiful he'll sound trying to insist that Bucky is different, he's nice and _thoughtful,_ because how many times has Tony tried to argue that before?

He can feel his stomach trying to twist up with nerves, his lungs trying to pull tight with tension, so he pushes himself away from his desk and the endless mountains of paperwork on it with a huff. He has better things to be doing than sitting around feeling sorry for himself.

He has work to do.

The lights all come on when Tony steps into his workshop, and he lets out a slow breath as a sense of purpose settles over his shoulders.

"Hey Fri, bring up the WarMachine schematics, lets get some final tests done and all those shiny finishing touches slapped on before Uncle Platypus comes to pick it up," he says, and the holograms are already springing to life as he steps up to the work table.

"You got it boss," comes FRIDAY's chipper voice, and then she asks, "Shall I also pull up the plans for the new gear for the rest of the Avengers?"

"Oh, might as well, we can make it a bulk delivery, you know how I love playing Santa," Tony says, because if he's going out to the compound he damn sure doesn't want to do it twice.

It's just a reminder of one more place that Tony tried to fit in and failed, where he proved time and time again that he doesn't belong. That no matter how hard he tries, he'll always be a merchant of death first and everything else second.

The least he can do is try to put it to good use, put the few weapons he still makes into the hands of people who can actually be trusted to use them. People who won't fuck it up and make the wrong call at every turn, unlike Tony.

People like Rhodey.

Especially when Rhodey is doing this for _him,_ because he knew that Tony would never be able to walk away from the Avengers for long unless there was someone he trusted to take his place, someone to actually put his weapons to good use. So Rhodey splits his time between the Air Force and the Avengers, still ostensibly working as the SI liaison as well, even though that mostly means repeatedly telling a roomful of angry men that no, SI will _not_ be making more weapons, _ever._

All because Rhodey has some crazy idea in his head that Tony _deserves_ to retire from getting knocked around in his tin can every other week. Like it's not that Tony is stepping away for everyone's sake, because it's absolutely what's best.

No one else will have to get hurt for Tony's impulsiveness and raging paranoia, and he can at least feel like he's still activly putting _something_ good out into the world. Like he's still making up for all the damage he did during his years of living soullessly, like he hasn't completely turned his back on what he’s done.

Rhodey is more of a team player anyways, he's undoubtedly the better choice. Tony mostly isn't sure why he was ever considered as more than a consultant at all, after the very first time Rhodey stepped foot into his own armor.

It's for the best, Tony reminds himself for the hundredth time as he begins his final review of the updates he made to the code, lists out the tests he still needs to run.

And then he has to pause for a sudden, ragged laugh as he realizes that Ty was _right,_ no matter how much it turns Tony's stomach to admit it. Tony really should have known better to think he could fit in with the _heroes._

* * *

Tony wakes up early Thursday morning still slumped over the arm of the worn couch in his workshop. He has only vague memories of stumbling over to the couch at some early hour of the morning, intending to just stretch out for a second before he apparently passed out.

He pushes himself upright with a low groan, rubbing at his neck where it aches from spending several hours bent at a weird angle and looks around. The holograms are all dimmed, the windows blacked out, and when Tony waves a hand vaguely they clear just enough that he can tell it's well into mid morning.

"FRI, my girl, why did you let me sleep so long?" He demands even though he probably only got a couple hours, rubbing at his dry eyes.

"Sorry boss," FRIDAY says and she doesn't sound sorry at all, "Ms Potts requested that if you were actually sleeping for once I just leave you be."

"Awful," Tory remarks lightly, though _fuck_ he misses the days when she didn't feel actively sorry for him, "Boss has _work_ to be doing."

He pushes himself to his feet and then ends up quickly flopping back down when his head spins and throbs a little.

"From right here," he amends, slumping back again and rubbing at his temples like he can physically push back the building ache, “Please pull up something I can work on from right here.”

Tony’s not sure how she does it, but he’d swear FRIDAY’s silence feels _pointed_ as the dim holograms flicker out. Probably too much time spent with Pepper.

At least it’s only a second before everything reappears directly in front of him, exactly where he’d left off, including the half-gibberish note he’d left for himself. Something about flux capacitors.

Maybe his passive aggressive AI is right, maybe he _does_ need more sleep.

But Tony has things to do, he may not be an Avenger anymore but he still makes most of their gear, at least they still trust him to do that. Possibly just because it’s that or subpar equipment, but Tony is choosing not to think about that.

It doesn’t matter either way, really. They need gear and it’s _something_ he can do.

He ends up drinking maybe entirely too much coffee, until he’s jittery with nerves and lack of sleep and his stomach is in knots. It would probably help if he ate some real food, not just the protein shake that DUM-E helpfully added spare bolts into, but that would require Tony leaving the workshop and he just has a couple things he needs to do first.

Then, hopefully, the knot of tension that’s taken up residence in his chest will be appeased and he can actually get some sleep before tomorrow.

Fuck, _tomorrow._ When he’s supposed to go out to the cabin with Bucky, and Tony _still_ hasn’t even finished deciding if that’s a terrible idea or not. 

Not that it really matters, it’s not like knowing something is a terrible idea has never stopped Tony before anyways.

It does have something else occurring to him though, so he takes his seventh (or nineth) mug of coffee with him as he flops back onto the couch and says “Hey FRI, call up Buckaroo for me, would you?”

“Calling, Snowflake,” she responds in what Tony is pretty sure is her best Siri impression, and he laughs softly as the line starts to ring.

It continues to ring for a minute, and Tony has just enough time to wonder if _shit_ maybe he should have just texted, _why_ is he even calling it’s not like he doesn’t have more important things to be doing, it’s not like he just wants to hear Bucky’s voice or anything—

“Hey darlin,” Bucky says when he answers and he _does_ sound a little surprised, but his voice is also incredibly warm as it fills the workshop and Tony has to fight down the urge to smile dopily.

“Hey,” Tony says back and he’s very sure that the smile he can’t repress is audible in his voice, has him ducking his chin for a second even though Bucky can’t see him. Then he remembers right, he had a _reason_ for calling, and quickly adds “So, it looks like Sunday would be better for me to go back up to the cabin and do any installation and updates you want, does that work for you?” 

“Yup, I got off the whole weekend so I’m all yours baby,” Bucky says, voice teasing and heated, and Tony sucks in a sharp breath as his stomach gives a pleasant twist.

“I- that’s, uh, that’s good,” Tony stutters out and damnit, he used to be _good_ at flirting, what _happened?_

(He’s willfully ignoring the fact that he’s never been any good at flirting with people he actually _really likes,_ because that is a dangerous line of thinking.)

He casts around desperately for something to say, doesn’t want the conversation to be over yet, and ends up blurting “Uh, did you want a ride up there? So you don’t get lost?” Tony winces as soon as the words are out and hurries to add “I mean, not that you’d get lost, you’re _you_ and they probably taught you how to navigate but it’s unfamiliar territory so I thought—”

“A ride would be great darlin,” Bucky cuts in, which is definitely for the best because Tony doesn’t know _where_ that rant was going to go next. And then his brain completely shuts down when Bucky adds “Thank you, that’s incredibly sweet and generous of you.”

“Oh, okay good, that’s, that’s good, you’re welcome,” Tony stammers awkwardly, because for all that he’s used to people fawning over him, he still has _zero_ idea what to do with genuine thanks.

They both fall quiet, and Tony knows he should hang up, should find a way to end the call _without_ sounding lonely and desperate. Hopefully also without giving away how much he’s looking forward to seeing Bucky tomorrow because _fuck_ they’re not even doing a scene, there’s really no reason for Tony’s pulse to be picking up with excitement. He should _definitely_ get off the phone.

Instead Tony finds himself folding his legs up onto the couch and hesitantly asking “So uh, what are you up to today?” 

“Just having a little barbecue with Sam, steaks and beers,” Bucky says, voice quiet and happy.

“That sounds nice,” Tony says as he turns enough to glance out the window, looking wistfully at the clear blue sky, “It’s a good day for it.”

“It is,” Bucky agrees, and then adds “Be better if you were here.”

For a second Tony can’t find any words, his breath catching in his chest again as his heart lurches, and before he can stop himself he’s asking “Really?” 

Then he sighs, because he already knows the answer to that question, and if Bucky doesn’t then apparently Tony is going to have to tell him. 

“I... Sam probably wouldn’t want me around, he’s, well I don’t think he’s my biggest fan,” he admits quietly, trying to keep the resignation out of his voice and probably failing horribly. 

“Baby that’s not true,” Bucky says quickly, and Tony’s stupid heart starts to jump hopefully in his chest before Bucky adds “He knows how happy you make me, he thinks you’re great.”

Tony stops breathing entirely, heart dropping straight through the floor and his empty stomach twists so hard that for a second he feels _sick._ He has to swallow thickly a couple times, hands shaking as he clutches white-knuckled at his coffee cup and _fuck_ how stupid can he be? All that work, keeping this stupid secret for most of his goddamn life, ruined because he’d actually _believed—_

“You told him?” Tony croaks out even though he doesn’t know where he finds the air, feels like his entire chest has frozen up and fuck it _hurts,_ he should have _known—_ “About, about _me_? He _knows?”_

_“No_ baby, I didn’t,” Bucky says quickly, and Tony can’t help wondering if it’s _too quickly,_ can barely hear it over his blood rushing loudly in his ears as Bucky continues, “I wouldn’t ever tell him without your permission. I meant that he knows about you in the sense that I have a sub and that person makes me happy. He doesn’t know it’s _you._ ” 

Tony finally manages to drag in a shaking breath, blinking rapidly as he leans over enough to set his mug safely on the ground before slumping sideways against the back of the couch. Stupid or not he _wants_ to believe Bucky, that he wouldn’t do that, but there’s still not a damn thing Tony can do about the way his heart has returned to his proper place in his chest only to beat painfully fast.

He can feel his breath rattling in his lungs as he curls up around himself a little tighter and clenches his shaking hands between his knees even though there’s no one around to see him anyways. It’s probably for the best that Tony has no idea what to say now, because he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to force any words out around the knot in his chest.

Apparently he isn’t doing a very good job of _silently_ fighting down a panic attack, because Bucky says “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Tony viciously bites down a hysterical laugh trying to rise in his throat, the urge to protest that he’s not upset, he’s _fine,_ why _wouldn’t_ he be _fine?_ Mostly because Bucky has already seen him have a panic attack up close and personal, after all, he definitely wouldn’t buy it.

“I... I was actually going to ask if you would be comfortable with me telling him who my sub is,” Bucky says in something that Tony almost wants to call a nervous babble, and it actually makes him feel maybe a tiny bit better even as his chest clenches up a little tighter. Tony is no stranger to nervous rambling, to the slight tremor in Bucky’s voice, so he does his best to just keep breathing as Bucky continues, “Because he’s my best, well, one of, friend and kinda like an unofficial therapist too and well, never mind, it’s not important.” 

Despite his words it certainly _sounds_ important to Bucky, and Tony feels his stomach impossibly sink a little lower. Right. It’s been awhile, but Tony remembers how this goes, too. Because it _is_ a lot to ask, for someone to keep his secret. To keep _him_ secret.

It’s the reason he decided to keep the whole stupid sub thing a secret in the first place, because he’d _known_ that it was a lot to ask of someone, to essentially lie to everyone they care about for him. He should have seen this coming, and maybe a part of him did, he had just expected to be having this conversation over _Steve._

“I thought... I thought Steve was your best friend?” Tony finds himself asking before he really even plans to speak, voice quiet but at least mostly steady. Partially because he’s too surprised to stop himself, and partially because he’s never been able to help poking at things he should definitely leave alone. “ _End of the line_ and all that.”

“The man that said that isn’t me anymore,” Bucky says, surprisingly forthcoming considering he could easily tell Tony to mind his own damn business, “I love Stevie, I always will, but the man he knew is gone and he doesn’t wanna admit that. Sam…” 

Bucky trails off, like he’s considering his next words, or maybe just trying to find them, and there’s something rough and open in his voice that Tony can’t help but believe. He’s barely aware of uncurling from his protective ball on the couch as he listens to Bucky drag in a deep, shaking breath.

“After Insight I was broken,” Bucky admits in a hoarse whisper, like he’s admitting to something terrible instead of what Tony is pretty sure is an expected human reaction to literally breaking himself free of brainwashing.

Tony wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this, he doesn’t have to drag these memories up, but all that comes out is a weak sound and then Bucky is talking again.

“I, I wandered for days, living on the streets, confused and scared and half outta my skull with the programming breaking down. Eventually I heard a couple of homeless vets talkin bout some fella that would help if you came and asked for it. I followed them to the shelter Sam volunteers at and watched him for a week, helpin folks and takin care of em.”

Bucky pauses again, breathing even shakier now, and Tony has probably officially ruined Bucky’s nice barbecue day with his questions. Classic.

“Sam, he figured out quick who I was and what was going on and started leaving me hot meals and blankets, luring me in like a feral street cat,” Bucky says with a laugh that sounds rough and wet and _painful,_ and Tony can’t completely fight down the hurt noise that rises in his own chest.

This story seems too personal. Tony shouldn’t be hearing this, he shouldn’t be _making_ Bucky tell him this, but Tony has always been too curious for his own good, and he hadn’t known any of this. He’s just now realizing that he’d assumed Steve was the one to track Bucky down somehow, probably topped off with an emotional reunion, and now that he knows he’s wrong Tony can’t help wanting to _know._

“My wounds were infected and I was delirious when he found where I was hiding, think he slipped a tracker onto one of the blankets, Romanoff probably gave it to him. Anyway, he found me, took me in and saved my life,” Bucky says, and then sighs heavily enough that Tony swears he can _feel_ it, voice heavy and quiet as he admits “I’d probably be dead or back with some shit Hydra splinter group if he hadn’t found me, I had plenty of em tailing me and tryin to take me back in.”

“What happened to them?” Tony asks before he can stop himself, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer.

Sure enough, Bucky’s voice is flat as he says “Nobody looks twice at a dead homeless person. I took their cash and pawned their phones and tried to stay alive. If Sam hadn’t…” he trails off again, and Tony feels a frown pulling at his own lips, chest clenching at the pain in Bucky's voice. “I owe him everything Tony, and I want to be honest with him, but I’m not gonna do it if you aren’t okay with it. I’d _never_ do something to betray you or hurt you, Tony, _never.”_

 _Stupid,_ part of Tony's mind whispers agan, but he can't stop himself from clinging to the raw honesty in Bucky's voice, _wanting_ to believe him.

Tony slowly starts getting his breath and heart rate back under control, almost terrifyingly easy all things considered. He just has to listen to the steadying sound of Bucky's breathing over the speakers, the way it fills the workshop and makes him feel a little less alone.

“I didn’t realize... I didn’t know all of that,” Tony says softly and his voice doesn't even shake, “You really trust him, huh?”

“I do baby," Bucky says instantly, so painfully earnest, "I trust him with my life.”

Which brings Tony right back around to feeling like the worst kind of asshole. It's been pretty obvious for a while now that honesty is kind of a _big thing_ for Bucky, and here he is asking Bucky to lie to all the people he cares about. Tony knows better than anyone that lies of omission can still hurt. Sometimes worst of all.

 _Maybe,_ Tony thinks helplessly to himself, _maybe it won't end terribly,_ and before he can stop himself he's blurting out, “And he- he wouldn’t tell Steve?”

Something in Tony's chest twists a little with shame at how weak and pitiful his voice comes out. It really gives away that he's hanging a stupid amount of hope on that one tiny detail, like he thinks someday, _maybe,_ he can earn his way back onto the team as long as he just doesn't give them any more reasons _not_ to let him.

“No baby, _no._ He’s a professional, he wouldn’t betray us like that, ” Bucky says firmly, and then pauses for a second before carefully asking, “Do you wanna talk to him yourself? Get it from the horse's mouth?”

An abrupt laugh burts of of Tony, soft but real, and he swallows down the _'I believe you more'_ that's on the tip of his tongue. “Yea uh, sure, lemme talk to the BirdMan,” he says instead, and he _almost_ achieves the light, joking tone he’s aiming for.

“You sure?” Bucky asks, voice still full of that weird _concern_ that Tony doesn’t know what to do with, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I’m not trying to pressure you here.”

“I know Bucky, believe me, I know,” Tony says with another soft laugh, and sure, there’s a not-so-small part of him that wants to jump on the out that Bucky is clearly giving him, wants to blurt that he changed his mind.

But he doesn’t want to demand that Bucky keep his secret, not when Bucky makes some painfully valid points, and maybe if it’s just _one more_ person—

“I’m fine,” Tony says and he manages to sound more decisive this time at least, a little more steady as he adds “Lemme talk to Toucan Sam.”

Bucky sighs, and Tony almost points out that Bucky doesn’t have to do this either, he doesn’t _have_ to admit that Tony is his sub, Tony certainly wouldn’t blame him. But before he can say anything Tony hears the sound of movement over the phone, like it’s being handed over, so he just takes a couple deep breaths and tries to steel himself.

“Hello?” Comes Sam’s voice over the line, sounding carefully blank, the curiosity in his tone well buried.

“Hey BirdMan, how’s the BirdBackpack?” Tony asks by way of greeting, slapping on his best press smile even though there’s no one around to see it. It helps in his efforts to keep his voice light and steady, even if the expression does feel sharp and brittle on his face. “And is the answer ‘better if you’d let me upgrade it already?’”

There’s a long pause, and Tony keeps his smile on through pure force of will, tells himself that he’s _not_ going to panic and hang up and then go hide in a hole forever. Or something equally melodramatic, like moving back to Malibu and trying to pretend none of this ever happened. He can feel panic trying to claw its way back up his throat as Sam continues saying nothing, just the vague sound of what might be a sliding door coming over the line.

Tony tries to protest that if Sam is going to yell at him he might as well do it in front of Bucky, it’s probably about time someone chased him away, but the words turn into a strangled sound when Tony tries to force them out. So he just clenches his jaw shut instead and tries to remember to breathe as the background noises of light wind and traffic fade away.

“I dunno,” Sam finally says, his tone serious and Tony’s stomach twists a little tighter, “I heard you want to put in sound effects. I don’t know if that’ll really fit with my aesthetic.”

The flat delivery startles a laugh out of Tony, and his voice only trembles a little as he immediately objects “I make _one joke_ about _‘swish’_ noises!”

“I’m more of a _‘swoosh’_ guy,” Sam says and Tony may have only met him a couple times, when he goes up to the compound to drop things off mostly, but he can so easily picture Sam’s careless shrug and ‘what are you going to do’ expression. “Now if you want to upgrade my guns, we can talk.”

“Sorry, the swish noises are included, package deal,” Tony says with a shrug of his own, smile a little more real as his heartbeat starts to settle down a tiny bit.

He hadn’t let himself dwell too much on _how_ this conversation would go, in the infinitely long thirty seconds while he’d been waiting for Bucky to hand the phone over, because Tony is trying to _avoid_ a full on panic attack today. If he _had_ though, lighthearted teasing is definitely not what he would have expected. Tony would have guessed loud accusations and maybe threats against his person, if he’d let himself think about it. Which he hadn’t

“So,” Sam starts and his voice is still light, Tony doesn’t even realize they’re getting _serious_ until Sam continues with, “As far as I knew the two of you only met just the one time, gotta admit I’m curious how this all happened.”

Tony is so thrown by the blunt statement that he doesn’t even consider lying, much less trying to come up with a believable one, and instead just blurts, “Internet. Isn’t that where everyone finds hipsters these days?”

 _“Hipster,”_ Sam repeats with a snort of laughter, “please tell me you say that to his face.”

“I do,” Tony confirms, grinning despite himself at the memory of the disgruntled little wrinkle Bucky always gets between his eyebrows, “He’s a big fan, you should do it too.”

“I’m good,” Sam says with another laugh, “Somehow, I don’t think I’d get away with it. Pretty sure he likes you more.”

Tony sputters for a second, face flushing, and he _wants_ to be annoyed by the way his heart give a stupid happy little lurch, but it’s honestly way better than his heart trying to beat it’s way out of his chest with panic.

“Boo, coward,” Tony accuses, only a little strangled, and then forces himself to drag in a deep, steadying breath.

It’s _so tempting_ to try and change the subject back to guns, or new ideas he has actually had for the wings, or basically _anything else,_ but Tony fights down the urge. There was a _point_ to agreeing to talk to Sam, and if Tony is going to spend the entire time being his normal evasive self he might as well have told Bucky _‘no’_ in the first place.

He just needs to figure out what to say that _isn’t_ pitifully begging Sam to promise not to tell, because that is not exactly going to increase Sam’s questionable impression of him. And it’s probably a stupid request anyways, he spends most of his time with Steve, Mr. _‘honesty is important,’_ and this was a _terrible idea—_

Luckily Sam speaks up again before Tony has to make a decision, and his tone is carefully blank as he asks, “I’m gonna guess no one else knows this is going on, do they?”

“I’m waiting for a good time slot before I hold a press conference,” Tony says sarcastically, voice maybe a little sharper than he intended as he slumps harder into the back of the couch and _fuck_ why did he think this was a good idea.

Sam just chuckles softly though and then clarifies, “I mean your friends too, I’m guessing I’m the first person you guys have told.”

Tony knows that he probably means the Avengers at large, but Tony’s mind lands instantly on Rhodey, and _Pepper,_ and guilt twists up tight in his chest again. 

“You are correct, and you may now feel special,” Tony agrees and this is good, if he can just keep breathing steadily and find a place to slip in some pleading to _keep_ is a secret, he just might make it through this conversation.

“Hooray,” Sam says, dry as the desert, and it drags another reluctant laugh out of Tony. “While I’m feeling all special I gotta ask, I think most people assume you’re neutral, right? Not—“

“I know,” Tony interrupts, because he’s always hated actually _hearing it out loud,_ the way being called a sub always kind of sounds like an accusation. “I kind of put a lot of work into making that assumption happen. Hard enough to keep control of my company as it is,” he admits with a laugh that only shakes at the end.

It _is_ true, is the thing. It’s the _original_ reason Tony decided to keep being a sub a secret, he’d had it drilled into his head right from the beginning that there’s no place for weakness in a boardroom, even before he realized just how much it applied to him. Realizing that he mostly _hated_ it, that he makes a _terrible_ sub, really just reinforced that decision.

At first Sam’s only response is a thoughtful noise, and Tony tries to brace himself for the inevitable and justified judgement, but when Sam finally speaks again all he says is, “Sounds like a rough way to live.”

“You know me, always have to make things difficult for myself,” Tony says with a snort of laughter that comes out only a _little bit_ hysterical, because _rough_ is kind of a wild understatement. 

It’s still undoubtedly his best option though, who’s going to trust a sub to run a company after all? Who would ever trust someone like him to do something _important,_ like trying to _save the world,_ if they knew the whole truth? Hell, they barely even trust him to do that _now,_ and they probably _shouldn’t,_ and Tony _really_ needs to make sure this entire thing doesn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

“Will- I mean, are you-“ he stutters out, voice cracking and barely more than a breath by the end, because how the _hell_ is he supposed to demand secrecy from Sam too, at least _Bucky_ is getting something out of this, but luckily Sam jumps in again before he can work his way up to hyperventilating.

“Well your secret is safe with me man,” Sam says mercifully, like it’s a thought that’s just occurred to him rather than a response to Tony’s failed attempt at words, “That’s your business. And I’m on board with anything that makes the grumpiest mechanic a little less grumpy.”

“Uh, good,” Tony says weakly, twisting a little to drop his forehead to the back of the couch as he tries to figure out _what is happening here._

He’s been thrown off balance this entire conversation, which normally he _hates,_ but it’s going so well that he doesn’t even _mind_ this time. Sam is acting like it’s no big deal, like he’s _not_ in a hurry to run off and tell someone or pointing out that yeah, it _is_ a little weird for the two of them to be hanging out in _any_ capacity.

 _“I’m_ supposed to be the grumpiest mechanic that people know, I can’t have him dethroning me,” Tony tries to joke, breathing a little easier as the tension winding him tight _slowly_ starts to fade away. 

Sam laughs, but his voice quickly goes serious again as he says, “Seriously though, I think you’re good for him. I may not have the greatest frame of reference, but I’ve never seen him lookin so overall happy before.”

“I-I’m trying,” Tony admits quietly, because he’s still not convinced he’s actually helping all that much but _fuck_ is he _trying._ Then his face heats as he realizes he said it, and that it came out _exactly_ as weak and unsure as he feels.

“Seriously, he _smiled_ earlier,” Sam insists lightly, “I was starting to doubt his face could even _do_ that.”

It startles another laugh out of Tony, and he’s not sure how this conversation turned into what he’s pretty sure is Sam’s gentle attempts to reassure _him,_ but he’s definitely not going to complain about it right now. He’s also not going to let himself ask if Sam _means_ it, if he’s _sure_ it actually has anything to do with Tony, because his heart is already jumping dangerously in his chest at the suggestion alone.

“Maybe your jokes are just terrible,” Tony says instead and then laughs again when Sam makes offended noises. 

“I don’t have to stand for this, I have steak to be eating,” Sam complains goodnaturedly, and Tony grins as he hears the sliding door again.

“Try telling him the story of the time you got beat up by a tiny man on the roof,” Tony suggests, snickering at the memory of that particularly entertaining security footage FRIDAY had shared with him, and then grinning wider when Sam sputters out a laugh.

“Yea yea TinMan, keep it up and I’ll tell TasteeFreeze here to ask about the Froyo Incident of 2017,” Sam teases, and Tony can _hear_ his grin, and his chest gives another happy little clench as he realizes that maybe Sam really _doesn’t_ have anything against him. The list of people who don’t is pretty short these days.

“That was an isolated occurrence!” Tony defends himself with a laugh, “I have froyo self control now, ask anyone. Except don’t, you are forbidden from speaking of that incident, or I’ll have to retaliate by sending out these wedding invitations.”

“What—“ Sam starts to ask, and Tony can _feel_ his confusion, a wicked grin spreading over his face as he interrupts.

“You know, these ones you drew yourself?” Tony says slowly, not even trying to hide the glee in his voice because oh, he never thought he’d actually get to bring this up, “The ones announcing your engagement to _‘Captan Amarica’?”_

“W-what, I, h-how did you know about that?” Sam demands in a sputter and Tony bursts out into laughter so loud that a startled U drops a can of bolts.

“I know all,” Tony declares with his best evil cackle, “Also your mom put photos on facebook a couple months ago. The art is pretty good though! What were you, seven—“

“Truce man, truce,” Sam interrupts him, laughing, and Tony grins a little wider, “We’re good.” 

“As long as we’re good on our mutually assured destruction,” Tony says happily, “and you promise you’ll at least _think_ about the swish noises.”

“Yea alright, I’ll let you know,” Sam says with another chuckle, “Now lemme give you back to the Manchurian Candidate, he’s staring at me like he’s gonna rip the phone from my hand and I like my bones unbroken, thanks.”

“Call him a hipster!” Tony demands, but Sam just laughs and the sound of the phone being handed over takes over the line again.

“Hey darlin, you ok?” Bucky asks after a second, and Tony feels a little bad as it occurs to him that Bucky might have spent that entire time he was talking to Sam worrying.

He doesn’t feel bad enough to not laugh softly though as he says, “Yea we’re good.” He hesitates for a second, then admits, “I can see why he’s your unofficial therapist, he’s good at getting people to talk.”

“He’s got a talent for it,” Bucky agrees with a weak laugh, and then his voice drops a little lower, a little more worried, as he asks, “So really, how are you? I guess we can’t really go back from this, huh?” 

Tony’s next laugh gets caught in his throat, because yeah telling someone else, telling _anyone,_ definitely makes the whole arrangement feel more _real,_ less like some kind of weird fantasy that Tony has dreamed up. And he’s not sure if he should admit that it hadn’t even _occurred_ to him when he’d agreed to talk to Sam, all he’d thought about was making it so that at least Bucky doesn’t have to lie to _one_ of his best friends.

Yeah, he probably shouldn’t admit that, partially just because he really doesn’t want to think about when telling _Steve_ is going to come up, so instead Tony laughs roughly and says, “Not really, no. But when has that ever stopped me?”

“I wish I was there so I could hug you,” Bucky says, soft and honest for all that Tony has no idea where it came from.

For a second Tony can’t say anything, stuck by the overwhelming urge to blurt _‘me too’_ because a hug actually sounds really fucking nice right about now. Bucky wrapped around him all impressive muscle and smell of grease, doing an amazing job of blocking out the rest of the world every time. Tony props his chin on the back of the couch and stares out at the clear blue sky, feeling horribly alone in his big empty lab, and figures _fuck it._

“Me too,” he admits quietly, pressing his cheek a little harder against the cool fabric of the couch as his face flushes. The only response is the slightest hitch in Bucky’s steady breathing, but it’s enough to have Tony smiling helplessly.

The silence that falls over them is easy and comfortable, _surprisingly_ comfortable, and Tony is happy to just enjoy it for a second, feeling a little bit less alone. There’s still a tiny wiggle of guilt and worry in his chest though, and Tony can’t help thinking that there is at least _one_ thing that might make it a little better.

“Um, while we’re doing things we can’t come back from, Pepper, I mean- can I...” Tony pauses to drag in a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but it fails and he ends up quickly and nervously rambling out, “I just- she’s one of _my_ best friends, and she’s been poking me to tell her basically anything about you, and she _did_ kind of recommend the matching service in the first place—“

“Darlin, _breathe,”_ Bucky interrupts, sounding fondly bemused, and Tony obediently drags in a shaking breath, heartbeat starting to get painfully quick in his chest again. “Of course you can tell her, baby, I want you to feel comfortable in this too. You can tell basically any of your friends you’re comfortable telling, it’s up to you darlin.”

Tony lets his breath out in a relieved sigh, and then barks out a slightly manic laugh as something occurs to him. “Oh sure you say that now, just wait until Rhodey is stalking you in full War Machine get up,” he says, rubbing at his eyes for a second before pillowing his head on his arm, making himself a little more comfortable.

“Perfect,” Bucky says without hesitation, “the hydraulic lift at my shop is going out, we could use the replacement.”

”That is _not_ what that suit is for,” Tony protests with a laugh, and then laughs harder when Bucky makes an indecisive noise. Once he settles down Tony realizes that he could all too easily get caught up in just listening to Bucky breathe over the line again, so he clears his throat and says, “Well, I have to get back to it, building a better mousetrap isn’t going to just happen on its own!” 

Bucky laughs and Tony smiles at the sound of it. “Still on the hunt huh?” Bucky asks and Tony laughs softly himself.

“It’s mocking me now, I swear!” He exclaims, turning just enough to cast a suspicious look around the workshop, “It ate all the cheese and avoided every trap I set!”

“Tricksy little hobbit,” Bucky says after a thoughtful hum, and for a second all Tony can do is blink in surprise, trying to process.

“ _Did you just—”_ Tony demands in a dramatic gasp, then has to pause to laugh wildly before he can gasp out, “Oh my god you’re my new favorite, I have to call Rhodey Bear and tell him he’s been replaced,” Tony says gleefully and it feel _so nice_ to just pretend for a second that things could really be that simple. “You’re such a _nerd,_ you nerdy fuckin hipster.”

Bucky laughs again, loud and free, and Tony tucks his face into the bend of his elbow even though there’s no one around to see his dopey smile anyways. There’s no one to call him on it if Tony lets himself just soak up the sound of Bucky’s laughter for a second and let the knowledge that _he_ did that, that Sam thinks he’s actually _good_ for Bucky, fill up his chest until it feels warm and pleasantly tight.

“I told you I ain’t a hipster,” Bucky teases once he finally stops laughing, and Tony is about to argue that point when Bucky drops his voice a little and adds, “Gonna have to punish you if you keep that up.”

Tony makes a choked sound at that, mostly surprised at the way his stomach gives a little twist of heated anticipation instead of the fear and tension he would have expected, and it startles a weak laugh out of him. “That’s... not really incentive for me to stop,” he admits slowly and feels his cheeks flush a little more at how breathless his voice comes out, almost _eager._

Bucky makes another low, thoughtful noise that sends a light shudder down Tony’s spine, and Tony is _so_ tempted to ask what exactly it is that he’s thinking.

“What time should I be ready tomorrow?” Bucky asks before he gets a chance and that is... probably for the best. That’s probably not an on-the-phone conversation, there’s way less chance of Tony overthinking things and spiraling out if they talk about things like _punishment_ in person.

“Um, is ten ok?” Tony asks after a second of thought, “We can go earlier if you’re a morning person, I just need like, a gallon of coffee and maybe a RedBull and I’ll be good to go.” And hopefully he’ll actually be able to get a decent night sleep tonight, because he’s sure he looks like a sleepless zombie right now.

“Nah ten is good,” Bucky says with another soft laugh, “I gotta go to the garage after this and do some after hours work that’ll probably have me there late, so I’ll sleep in a bit.”

“Alright then, I guess I’ll see you at ten,” Tony says and hopes that it’s not audible in his voice that his heart is sinking a little as he realizes that this means the phone call is coming to an end, and he’ll be all alone in his lab again. And worse, he’ll have to follow through on going to talk to _Pepper._

“Yes you will baby,” Bucky says, warm and teasing as he adds, “I’ll be the one in the man bun.”

Tony’s breath catches at the reminder of their first meeting, when neither of them had any idea what they were getting into. He’s tempted to respond the same way he did then, with a friendly offer to _remove_ said man bun for him, but instead Tony finds himself quietly admitting, “I’ll be the one looking forward to seeing you.”

“That makes two of us baby,” Bucky replies before Tony even has a chance to feel self conscious about it, and he can _hear_ the smile in Bucky’s voice so clearly that Tony can practically see it, can’t help smiling back.

He allows himself another couple seconds of just listening to the sounds filtering in through the line, a light breeze and what sounds like the happy shouting of Sam’s neighbors interspaced with Bucky’s steady breathing.

“Ok, bye,” Tony eventually forces out, nerves starting to wind their way through his chest all over again.

“Bye baby,” Bucky echoes, and then the line goes silent and Tony is alone in his workshop.

It’s _so_ tempting to just wallow in it, or maybe get back to work and try to ignore the world for a little while longer, but instead Tony forces himself up off the couch and heads for the elevator. He’s already had one weird and unexpected conversation so far today, might as well make it two and get this out of the way.

Luckily when he checks with FRIDAY she confirms that Pepper is in her office and doesn’t have any meetings scheduled for the rest of the day, so Tony heads straight there. He spends the entire elevator ride trying to decide _how_ exactly he’s going to bring this up, and he has maybe half a plan as he pushes the door to her office open.

Pepper looks up at him when he pushes into her office without knocking, giving him an exasperated look that _almost_ hides the warmth and worry behind it, and to his horror Tony finds himself just blurting out, “Bucky Barnes.”

Pepper’s face wrinkles with confusion, worry more obvious, and Tony winces because _fuck_ what happened to his _plan?!_

He drags in a deep breath, and tries to sound like he has any idea what he’s doing as he asks, “You wanted to know more about my shiny new dom, right?”

If anything, Pepper's look of confusion deepens, and they just stare at each other in silence for a couple seconds before she states, “I’m waiting for you to pick one topic of conversation.”

Tony just raises one eyebrow at her, fixes her with his own expectant look, and it’s almost fun to watch the realization dawn on her, the way her eyes go wide and her mouth falls open for a split second before she snaps it shut again.

He has to hand it to her, it doesn’t take long for Pepper to get her expression under control, schooling it into something carefully blank. She looks him over again, as if expecting to find something _other_ than the usual sleep-deprived and grease-stained Tony that comes stumbling into her office with weird declarations.

“Just to be clear,” she finally says, slow and careful, “this is the same Bucky Barnes who was forced to kill your parents as part of a nefarious Hydra plot.”

Here it is, the moment he’s been dreading, and to his surprise Tony only feels the _slightest_ twinge of guilt, of the anger he’d felt when it was finally deemed _necessary_ to tell him that’s now more of a low simmer than anything. Because he _knows_ Bucky now, gentle and honest and _trying,_ and if Tony is still angry then it’s definitely not directed at _him._ But Tony really doesn’t want to talk about his _feelings_ right now, so he returns to his favorite fallback. Being obnoxious.

“Oh Pep,” Tony says with a roll of his eyes and a lightness that’s _almost_ convincing, “That is _so_ last year.” 

Watching the annoyed expression that flashes across Pepper’s face, followed closely by reluctant amusement, is _probably_ worth whatever is going to happen next and Tony can’t help grinning a little.

“Okay,” Pepper says slowly, and Tony can practically _see_ her trying to process that without letting anything show on her face until finally, like she just can’t help herself, she asks, “And that isn’t...”

“Weird?” Tony volunteers when she trails off awkwardly, and then shrugs in response to her sheepish nod. “A little,” he admits, because it _is,_ and he doesn’t know that it’ll ever _stop_ being weird, but... he _wants_ it to, “It’s mostly weird that he’s friends with Steve, honestly.”

Pepper laughs softly at that, and the knot of tension in Tony's chest slowly starts to unwind. “Okay, well, thank you for telling me Tony," she says with a warm smile, "It means a lot."

Tony can tell she's still more surprised than anything, and he can't help grinning as he points out, "This is going way better than I expected."

"Yes well, that's what happens when you just drop things on me out of nowhere, and I think you know it," she says with a huff and a roll of her eyes, then smiles sweetly as she adds, "Don't worry, I’ll call you screaming if I freak out later."

“And I’ll ignore it, perfect," Tony says happily as he spins on his heel to head for the door, figuring he'll make his escape while things are going so well. The sound of Pepper's laughter follows him out into the hallway and Tony grins as he heads for the elevator, because even that tiny bit of weight off his shoulders has him feeling _amazing._

He's going to see Bucky tomorrow, they’re going out to the cabin, and Tony has just enough work to keep him occupied that maybe he can enjoy the anticipation _without_ falling into the spiral of overthinking it. And if he’s really lucky he won’t fall back into the slump of letting himself think about all the things he’s _not_ doing to help, either. 

Hell, maybe he'll upgrade Sam's guns after all, no swish noises required. That should keep him occupied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saw this on Tumblr and I think it's a lovely idea--feel free to copy and paste into your own fics!!
> 
> Emoji Key for those who don't know what to say in the comments!
> 
> ❤ = you wish you could kudos again  
> 😭 = I got you right in the feels  
> 🔥 = this was so hot!  
> 🐰 = it’s so fluffy!

**Author's Note:**

> Well folks, that's it! This is the end of phase one of this series! What does that mean you might be wondering? Well, you can consider this phase to be the opening act of this series, a beginning as it were. As we go on into other phases, relationships will develop, things will change and our two favorite boys will grow and learn to trust. We thank you for sticking with us through so many chapters and still not getting those kisses y'all are waiting on, and we'll see you back here on the 15 and 30th of this month for new parts! 
> 
> Xoxo WhiteIronWolf and RiotFalling
> 
> Saw this on Tumblr and I think it's a lovely idea--feel free to copy and paste into your own fics!!
> 
> Emoji Key for those who don't know what to say in the comments!
> 
> ❤ = you wish you could kudos again  
> 😭 = I got you right in the feels  
> 🔥 = this was so hot!  
> 🐰 = it’s so fluffy!


End file.
